


An Eternity Is Far Too Long

by orphan_account



Category: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Genre: Angst, Celestia needs hugs, Character Study, Depression, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Existentialism, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Introspection, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Unhappy Ending, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-24 02:56:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18160565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account





	An Eternity Is Far Too Long

Cold fingers traced colder glass, imagined it shattering beneath her fingers akin to a fragile cobweb, caving beneath her touch as if she bore the hand of death, so that it would fall in apon itself, a self contained explosion of silver shrapnel, obscuring her reflection from every eye.

And yet she still stood, knew she was opaque and present, perhaps moreso than any other on this fragile planet, her mere existence often a comfort, a constant in thousands of lives.

And perhaps once, over a thousand years ago, that thought would have given her a pleasant pause. Perhaps even a mere hundred years behind, it wouldn't have bit at her quite so hurtfully.

And yet the cold nipped at her, self hatred seeping in through the cracks in her composure, forcing a smile for every day, for every conversation, every meeting, every passing glance. The merest of gestures had to be accompanied by it.

It hurt, It hurt. Even as the cold numbed it, it pained her greatly.

Discord noticed first, before perhaps even her own sister, though Luna seemed to hold concern. The being of entropy had pulled her aside, intertwined their fingers, and gingerly told her to _'Get some sleep. Take a break. Anything.'_

She had laughed, forced it, felt as if her throat bled from the effort to keep looking happy, smiled at him, forced a sparkle into her eye, told him not to worry. Dug her nails into a palm that grew more hollow by the second.

Stopped eating sugars, even cake. Couldn't stand to look at them, wondered if she had been sat in the lap of luxury for far too long. Wondered if her death could spark the birth of a new raiser of the sun. Contemplated the logistics of her ability, and if it were perhaps a bloodline affinity, or would be passed on through rebirth. After all, her parents were exceptionally powerful and had always harboured an innate ability to shift the stars and the clouds, barely exhausting their magic. And yet... She bore no offspring. Would her abilities go to a fandom foal? Would... No one inherit them? Was she selfish for even wanting to be gone from this earth?

She hates these thoughts, hates herself for having them.

There's blood on her wrists, then, seeping through layers of crisp white cloth. She hates this even more than her own mind, because it reminds her of Sunset and her flaming crimson hair, and she stops the pressure, before staring at the damage. The knife is soaked in it, red both from the heat she had applied and the liquid now flooding to a puddle beneath her. She presses the flat of the side of metal to her skin, and like that the damage has been cauterized, flesh knitted together in string and exposed flesh, a sick advantage of the burning.

She smells cooked flesh and throws up, tears streaking her face.

"Just a thousand more lifetimes to live" she breathes, and wishes she could splinter like the knife beneath her fingers.


End file.
